


Clear and Cognizant

by Ghoststar



Category: Cobra Kai (Web Series), Karate Kid (Movies)
Genre: 1985, 1990, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Bantering, Canon Compliant, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Medication, No Sex, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Season/Series 03 Spoilers, Sexual Humor, present day
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-17 15:53:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29474268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ghoststar/pseuds/Ghoststar
Summary: "God, even when you’re being decent, you’re still a dick.”“All I heard was I have a decent dick.”-Daniel goes into heat at school and Johnny tries to do the right thing. It was never meant to become a thing that occasionally happened, much less one where Daniel returned the favor.Or: the handful of times they helped each other during a cycle over the years. Almost exclusively by making sex jokes and drinking tea.
Relationships: Daniel LaRusso/Johnny Lawrence
Comments: 21
Kudos: 83





	Clear and Cognizant

Johnny had only taken a single step inside the bathroom when the smell hit him. It was the bathroom on the first floor, towards the back of the building where people liked to smoke in between classes. Johnny wasn’t looking for a smoke, but he was looking for some peace and quiet to hopefully kill the headache branching out from between his eyes.

The chance withered up and died a cruel, quiet death.

_ Come the fuck on, _ Johnny thought and glared at the single closed stall.

He stood, hand still on the door, and debated. He could go sit in the emergency stairwell until his headache subsided, though he knew the principal liked to check their students skipping class. He could go inform a teacher, like he was expected to, like what had been drilled into all of them during middle school Dynamics & You class, but he had no doubt he’d be sent straight back to class afterwards. He knew what he wanted to do, which was blow off the rest of class and just leave. At least one of them would be winning that way.

And it wasn’t like this thing never happened. It did, pretty often too. Someone got their first cycle or hadn’t been keeping track like they were supposed to and ended up starting at school. They’d be sent home for a day or two, either with a rapid release inhibitor from the nurse in hand or to one waiting at home, and that would be that. It was embarrassing for everyone involved, but it wasn’t the end of the world. Sure, whoever it was would be a laughing stock until graduation, but who gave a shit after that? It really wasn’t a big deal and someone else could deal with it. So Johnny was just going to leave and-

Johnny’s eyes dropped to the shoes he could see under the stall door. He knew those shoes. Of course he knew those shoes. What other kind of fucking idiot would go into heat in the bathroom at school?

Johnny swore and went to knock on the stall door.

LaRusso’s voice was muffled and annoyed as he called, “busy!”

“Yeah, I can tell. Are you planning on riding it out in there or are you just killing time until class is out?”

There was a beat of silence, then a heavenward mutter of, “seriously?” LaRusso shuffled around and his feet disappeared. “Go away, Johnny.”

Johnny would like nothing better than to do just that. He’d rather like to ditch LaRusso to his own devices and let the next poor bastard help him out of this predicament. Three months ago, Johnny absolutely would have done just that. But Bobby had been harping on and on about responsibility and human decency, talking about apologizing and making things right. Talking about how they _ owed _ LaRusso for all the shit they pulled last year, and how this strange, post-war peace wasn’t sustainable without making amends.

And maybe Bobby was on to something. Maybe they did owe him, maybe _Johnny_ owed him, no matter how much he’d rather pretend these past six months had never happened and that Daniel fucking LaRusso hadn’t managed to upend his whole life in the course of a single afternoon.

Johnny owed him so the least he could do was spare him the embarrassment of school gossip. Well, more than they had garnered from their rivalry.

Pressing his hand against his forehead to rub away the steadily climbing headache, Johnny asked, “what do you need, LaRusso?”

“What?” Flat and unflinching.

Johnny scowled at the door. “Don’t be stupid. Do you want me to go grab you an RRI from the nurse? A rag? Your mom?”

“Oh, fuck off, Johnny. I don’t need your shit right now.”

“Well, I really need to piss and I can’t do that while you’re in there, smelling like that. So-”

“There’s six bathrooms in the building. Go use one of them!” LaRusso interrupted. “And what do you mean by ‘smell like that?’”

“You smell like the backseat of a car at a drive-in.”

There was a pronounced pause and then LaRusso asked in a strangled voice, “excuse me?”

“What? It’s true.” Johnny defended. “You smell like the back room at Rent-a-Tape. You know, the one they let you watch the porn in.”

“Oh my god,” LaRusso said and the toilet seat clinked. “Are you finished?”

“I’ve got a few more,” Johnny offered, wracking his brain. “You ever step on an old, used condom?”

“You are so fucking gross!” LaRusso shouted through the door and then started to laugh, sounding just as surprised by it as Johnny felt. “Jesus, Johnny. I know I smell bad, but leave a guy his dignity.”

“You seem a little short on that right now.”

“Yes, thank you for pointing out the obvious,” LaRusso said and the toilet seat clinked again. A moment later LaRusso was peering over the top of the stall and down at him. “Anyone ever tell you that you’re a giant douche bag?”

“No, never.” Johnny said, though that was definitely a lie.

LaRusso scoffed.

Johnny took a step back and folded his arms, looking up at him. LaRusso’s hair was plastered to his flushed face, but his eyes were clear and assessing. That was good. LaRusso wasn’t blitzed out of his own damn mind on a heat high. He’d missed the window for suppressants by a mile, but as long as he took an RRI within an hour or two, he’d be fine. Riding a wave of hormones and in a state of perpetual horniness, but that’s how most people described early adulthood anyway. LaRusso was cognizant and would remain that way, which was the important part of this whole thing.

Johnny had had the misfortune of getting caught up on the wrong side of a cycle when he was fifteen. He had left his dual pack of suppressants on the kitchen counter and when he had come back they had been gone. Sid was always shouting about him leaving his shit laying around, about him trashing up the house by leaving tapes on the coffee table, or shoes by the door. It wasn’t the first time Sid had thrown away something important that belonged to Johnny and it wasn’t the last. It just happened to be one of the worst things he could have tossed out. 

Johnny’s mother had hauled his ass to the emergency room when she got home from the country club. He had been too far gone by the time they got there for a standard RRI pill to work and instead he’d ended up with a shot in the hip that left him feeling dizz and sick for days. It had almost been enough to make him wish he wasn’t in his right mind. A day locked in his room seemed a better alternative than puking up his guts and the snide, condescending way Sid had told him he wouldn’t forget to put away his belongings next time.

Above him, LaRusso folded his arms over the door. He must have been standing on his tiptoes on the toilet seat just to reach, the door shifting to accommodate his weight. He seemed to have made a decision. 

“Alright, you want to help? Go grab my gym clothes out of my locker.”

“Don’t you want a RRI first?”

LaRusso ignored him. “The combination is 43-17-22. Just grab my backpack. And my math book too. I need to finish the homework.”

“Anything else?” Johnny asked. He didn’t need to know where LaRusso’s locker was. He had spent most of last semester fucking with it.

LaRusso had returned the favor as often as possible. They’d landed themselves in detention over the paint bomb/stink bomb incident, where they had spent the entire time in two different corners of the room, glaring each other down.

You could say that about LaRusso at least. He never took any of the shit Johnny was dishing out without retaliating. It had pissed Johnny off to no end, but as Bobby’s lectures had grown progressively more scathing, Johnny had taken a little comfort in it too. LaRusso wasn’t scared of him, not then and definitely not now. And that meant something. It meant that Johnny wasn’t Sid. That he wasn’t Kreese. Johnny was an asshole, was a bully, but at least he was his own unique brand of bastard.

(And if sometimes Johnny thought about it all and felt sick to his stomach, if sometimes Johnny looked at the way he acted and saw too much of Sid, too much of Kreese, then the answer was just not to think about it. Johnny was good at denial. He could admit that he owed LaRusso in the privacy of his own head and on his next breath say he’d never done a damn thing to him. He’d had plenty of practice pretending over the years.)

“Yeah,” LaRusso said and grimaced. “Grab me some liners.”

“Alright, some rags, check.”

“Could you not call it that?” LaRusso asked, exasperated.

“No.” Johnny said and went to grab LaRusso’s things.

-

LaRusso wasn’t leaning over the stall door when he returned, but Johnny could tell he was still there. His shoes were back on the floor, though LaRusso was bouncing one knee in agitation. His bad knee, Johnny noticed, and wasn’t sure how he felt about that. Relieved? It was complicated.

“Johnny?”

“Yeah, it’s me.”

“Could you hurry up?” LaRusso asked.

“Quit bitching at me, it was a long walk.” Johnny said and took his time sliding quarters into the wall mounted machine next to the sink. They were his last ones and he had to do it right after all.

LaRusso’s foot was tapping restlessly, the other one starting to jiggle when Johnny walked over to the stall.

“Incoming,” he said and tossed the liners over the top.

“You could have passed them under the door,” LaRusso complained.

“I could have,” Johnny agreed and threw the backpack over next. It hit the floor with a heavy thump.

“Watch it! God, even when you’re being decent, you’re still a dick.”

“All I heard was I have a decent dick.”

LaRusso muttered something that sounded suspiciously like, “ _ that’s not what I heard, _ ” but Johnny chose to ignore it. Ali might hate his guts, but she wouldn’t do him wrong like that.

Johnny made use of his time while LaRusso changed by rubbing the bridge of his nose and staring at the wads of toilet paper stuck to the ceiling. It was a lameass game the sophomores played, trying to see who could get the biggest wad stuck to the ceiling. Johnny had walked in on it while skipping and had proceeded to crush them at it only a few weeks ago. His football sized wad had shifted the tile, and it was still there.

“Damn it,” LaRusso swore suddenly. “These were my favorite pants.”

“The camo ones?” Johnny asked the ceiling.

“Yeah.”

“Doesn’t sound like much of a loss.”

“They were a gift from my grandmother,” LaRusso defended and Johnny heard him starting to cram shit back into his backpack.

“What did you do to piss her off?”

“Moved here. She’s still not talking to my mom.”

Johnny shifted, eyes flickering from the stall to the door and then back to the ceiling. What was he supposed to do with that? He could say that his grandmother had kicked his mom out when she was seventeen and pregnant with him, but it didn’t seem to be on the same level. He could mention that Bobby’s mom told him he was a rotten little child? That seemed like something they could both laugh off.

Johnny didn’t have to say anything. The loud noise of the toilet flushing startled him and he took a step away from the door when it swung inwards.

“Hold this, would you?” LaRusso asked and shoved the backpack at him. He breezed past- Johnny’s nose wrinkled up- as he went to wash his hands at the sink.

Johnny held the backpack by the loop and at arm's length. LaRusso’s eyes flickered up and met his in the mirror. LaRusso laughed at him.

“It’s not going to give you cooties, Johnny.”

It was taking his solid five of a headache right to an eight was what it was doing, but Johnny wasn’t about to say that. Strong smells sometimes triggered the headaches, but they could also make them worse. Cinnamon and the scented candles his mother sometimes burned mostly did it, but so did the strong aftershave Jimmy had taken to wearing and that shitty perfume the girl in English wore. LaRusso’s wannabe lot lizard linens were definitely doing it.

“Hey, LaRusso, I thought of another way to describe how bad you smell.”

LaRusso rolled his eyes. He shut off the water and flicked his hands, drying them on his clean gym shirt. He held out his hand and Johnny handed it over quickly. LaRusso shouldered it and then just stared at him.

“What?”

“Don’t you have to pee?”

“Yeah?”

LaRusso waved at the stalls. “I’ll wait.”

“You’ll wait?”

“Don’t tell me you weren’t planning on ditching anyway.”

Johnny had been planning, if his headache subsided, to go for Chemistry. He actually liked playing around with deadly, life threatening chemicals. Tommy didn’t much care for being his partner, but Dutch had been banned from the lab months ago. He had almost been looking forward to it. 

But as he thought about it, it sounded a hell of a lot like LaRusso was inviting Johnny to ditch class with him. Which was ridiculous. It was downright stupid to think it and Johnny shouldn’t be nodding along.

And that's how Johnny ended up fumbling to catch the car keys LaRusso threw at him.

“Good,” LaRusso said. “You can drive then.”

-

LaRusso’s car was nice. Johnny had seen it around, one or twice- it wasn’t like he noticed LaRusso every time he was within eyesight- but Johnny hadn’t gotten a good look at it. It was an old car but he could tell it was well loved and meticulously maintained. It was obviously something LaRusso was proud of, something he cared for. Johnny had no idea why he felt so nervous as he slid in the key, the keychain that was suspiciously like dog tags bumping his fingers, and cranked it. Maybe it was the way LaRusso was watching him, eyes a little shiny, a little warm, or maybe it was the fact that LaRusso had a little hula girl on his dashboard that wiggled as they shut the doors. Or maybe, and he liked this explanation the best, it was the headache cresting behind his eyes that was making him feel off.

The whole day was unexpected and Johnny couldn’t find his footing. He didn’t much care for the feeling, so he tucked it away and did what he always did.

“You have car insurance right?” Johnny asked didn’t wait for LaRusso to respond before he stomped on the gas, backing out of the parking lot like a couple of teachers were going to drag them bodily back into the building.

“Don’t you dare wreck this car!” LaRusso shouted and coiled up tight in his seat, ready to launch himself across the bench seat.

“Chill out. I’m sure the insurance will cover it,” Johnny put his hand up, deflecting LaRusso’s hand when he reached out. Johnny couldn’t tell if he was going for the gearshift or for Johnny’s throat, the look in his eyes less murderous and more startled than anything. 

“Oh, whatever. I’m sure your dad can cover the deductible,” LaRusso huffed and dropped back into his seat. He rolled down the window and all the warmth fled out of the car, even the bit that had sprung up between them. LaRusso propped his arm on the window and lay his head down, eyes half closed as they cruised away from the school and back towards Reseda.

Johnny tapped his fingers on the big wheel and clenched his teeth. The comment smarted, more than Johnny would have liked it to. He was just playing, but the thought of having to go to Sid, having to explain all this, made him want to park the car and walk away. Let LaRusso drive himself home, it wasn’t like he was out of his mind or anything. He’d be fine. It wasn't Johnny’s responsibility after all.

“You know where the donut shop is, the one with the big beaver out front?” LaRusso asked, eyes still closed and leaning into the wind. His hair whipped around his red face, the sweat cooling into a chill that had LaRusso going limp in relief. 

“It’s by the train tracks.” Johnny nodded. Jimmy liked the place. Something about the glaze and how the owner always gave him extras.

“Yeah. Go up two blocks and then drive for about three miles. It’s the one with the fence.” LaRusso said. He shuffled around for a moment, reaching for the radio and rolling through the channels. He stopped on a familiar channel before resuming his position, saving the air like a cat savoring sunlight. 

Johnny glanced at the radio, at him, and back to the road. He opened his mouth to comment and let the words,  _ you don’t have bad taste _ , die on the wind. Johnny drove and kept his eyes one the road, only letting them stray once to see LaRusso mouthing the words to himself. 

“There,” LaRusso said some time later, pointing at a branching road. “Turn here.”

Johnny followed his directions, guiding the car down a little dirt road. The area was hidden away from the thoroughfares, tucked away like a private oasis in a busy city, with privacy fences tall enough to keep the world out. The gates were open and Johnny pulled inside, eyes flickering over the house, the yard, the line of old cars. His mouth as dry and stomach twisted as he parked where LaRusso pointed. 

He didn’t move as LaRusso gathered up his bag and swung his way out of the car. LaRusso closed the door behind him and ducked, peering at him through the still open window. 

“You’re wasting my gas,” LaRusso said and set off for the front door.

Johnny turned off the car. He pocketed the keys as he trudged across the dirt, eyes skimming over the small house and over the yard he could see. LaRusso led him into the house, stopping to kick off his shoes and hang up his backpack and coat on a peg. Johnny followed suit only when LaRusso elbowed him hard in the side.

“Mr. Miyagi isn’t home yet,” LaRusso said as he went to the kitchen, leaving Johnny standing in the entrance and trying not to seem off kilter. 

Mr. Miyagi’s house wasn’t anything like Johnny had seen before. Encino wasn’t quite suburbia, where every house had the same exact trim paint and an HOA on a power trip, but it was pretty close to cookie cutter. His house certainly wasn’t the shitty little apartments Johnny and his mom had breezed through before Sid swooped his mom off her feet and into the fairy tale land of screaming matches that could wake the neighbors and vacations arranged by a team of lawyers.

Johnny was pretty sure pointing at anything in the house and going, _hey, I know what that is because of Godzilla_ wasn’t the right thing to say either. For once, Johnny kept his mouth shut and just nodded politely. He followed LaRusso into the crowded kitchen, watching as he pulled out a kettle and set it on the stove. From a cabinet he grabbed two mugs, both of which Johnny was certain belonged to LaRusso himself. From under the sink he grabbed two canisters and a bag of sugar closed with a clip.

“What are you doing?” Johnny asked, unable to stop himself.

“Please tell me you’ve had tea before, Johnny. You cannot be that rich.”

“I’ve had tea before,” Johnny snapped. His mom used to make pitchers of ice tea, sweetened with stolen sweet-n-low packets from work, but that was before Sid. “That is not tea.”

LaRusso rattled one of the canisters and grimaced. “Well, no, I suppose this one isn’t.”

“What is it?”

LaRusso turned away, measuring out green powder into each of the mugs. He added white powder from the second canister to one of them, taking the time to even out the spoon and double check the amount. “So,” he started, nonchalant and not meeting Johnny’s eyes. “It turns out that almost all RRIs use the same preservative. Which, funnily enough, I’m allergic to. Not like deadly allergic, but hives freaking suck. This is the only one I can take and not want to rip my own skin off, but it tastes like shit. I use to add it to Coke, but Mr. Miyagi showed me how to completely mask the flavor with tea. It’s not as convenient as pills but it at least works.” 

Johnny blinked.  _ Okay.  _ “If it’s so much trouble, why not just use suppressants?”

“Same preservatives. You’d think one of them would think of something like this, but I guess it’s the cheapest option or something.” 

“That’s some bullshit.” 

“No kidding. I had a math test today and I’m gonna miss it.”

“Just buy the answers from Frankie B. He’s the guy with the red hair, smells like week all the time.”

“Is he the dude you buy from?”

“I don’t need to cheat on math tests,” Johnny frowned and watched as LaRusso dropped his head, smothering a laugh. “What?” 

“I was asking about the weed.”

“Oh. No, I get that from Bobby.” 

_ Bobby, _ LaRusso mouthed to himself. He shook his head and reached for the kettle. It was blue and almost pretty. He poured the mildly hot water into the mugs and Johnny watched as the powdered floated to the top in a clumpy mess. LaRusso stirred it with a spoon he pulled from a drawer, adding in enough sugar to make the water rise. Everything dissolved, but it took time. He did the same to the other cup. When he was done, he tucked everything away and passed one of the mugs to Johnny, who took it out of confusion more than anything. 

“It’s matcha. Green tea,” LaRusso explained and plugged his nose before draining the cup. He pulled a face of disgust that Johnny mirrored just from watching him. 

“I thought it masked the flavor,” Johnny said, holding the mug with little cats running around the lip in one hand. It was warm, but far from hot, and there was powder clinging to the lip. It smelled like normal tea, but it had been a long time. 

“It does, but I don’t like green tea.” 

Johnny took a sip of his to hide the smirk pulling at his mouth. It wasn’t as bitter as he was used to, didn’t have any orange flavor, but it was nice. The flavor was just familiar enough to make his heart ache and just hot enough to prickle his nose. He inhaled deeply and sat the cup down, leaving it on the edge of the counter. He squeezed the bridge of his nose hard, pressing down at the pressure between his eyes. When he opened his eyes, LaRusso was watching him. 

“What’s wrong with you?”

“I have a fucking headache.” Johnny snapped, rubbing hard in hopes of making the pain recede, but only making it worse. 

LaRusso turned, rummaging through the same cabinet the powder had come from. He came back after a moment, holding something in his hand. “Here. This is a top secret Miyagi cure-all, so you can’t tell anyone.” 

Johnny looked him suspiciously and then down at what LaRusso had pushed into his hand. The pills lay in his palm, small and orange. They were the exact same brand of pain relievers that Johnny used after a tough practice and more recently during bad headaches. 

“I have the same cure-all at home,” Johnny murmured and swallowed them down dry, following them with a sip of tea when they got stuck.

LaRusso watched him, something close to a smile on his face. LaRusso had grinned at Johnny before, a grin that said LaRusso knew he was pushing it, was delighting in fucking with him. Johnny knew his smirks, his scowls, the way his lips pressed together when he was ready to take a hit. He hadn’t seen this one before, the softer, honest one, that caught Johnny’s attention and refused to let go.

Johnny rested his hip against the counter. He finished his tea and searched for something to focus on besides the warmth fluttering away inside him. LaRusso leaned back against the counter, fingers running over the rim of his cup. Johnny wondered if he was watching him out of the corner of his eye, like Johnny was watching him, and squashed the question down. LaRusso shifted on his feet, stilled, then did it again. 

“You want me to leave so you can jerk off?” Johnny hadn’t even realized he’d been thinking about it until there it was, jumping out of his mouth and waltzing into LaRusso’s ears like it had any business doing so. 

LaRusso scowled, face going beet red. “Why are you like this?” 

Johnny would rather like to know that himself. But he wouldn’t be Johnny Lawrence if he didn’t just keep digging. “What? It’s a pretty reasonable question.”

“This is Mr. Miyagi’s house. I couldn’t- I wouldn’t do that here. That would just be disrespectful.” 

“What do you think Mr. Miyagi does during his cycles?” Johnny laughed at the look on LaRusso’s face. 

“Shut up, Johnny,” LaRusso said and knocked into him with his shoulder. He did it again when Johnny laughed harder, but didn’t draw away immediately after. He leaned his weight against him and stayed. 

The fluttering heat spilled outwards, running from shoulder to hip, a prickling awareness that Johnny wasn’t sure what to do with. He remained stiff, even as his knee threatened to give, to tip Johnny so he was pressing back just as firmly. If he turned his head, he’d feel LaRusso’s hair brushing his face. 

For a moment, Johnny  _ wanted,  _ and that was enough to have him shift away, to push off the counter at his back. He stuck his hands in his pockets, hunching his shoulders. The keys were warm from resting in his pocket when he fished them out, tossing them back to LaRusso. 

“You’re leaving?” 

“Yeah, got places to be.” Johnny lied. 

“If you wait a little while, Mr. Miyagi can drive you back.” 

The idea of riding in Mr. Miyagi’s truck made the hair on the back of Johnny’s neck stand on end, made his throat tight. He didn’t think he could look at the man without thinking about that night. Johnny didn’t think he could sit next to man without words lodging in his throat, the burbling, bubbling sick feeling in his gut. He didn’t want to think about it, any of it, and LaRusso was enough of a reminder most days. 

Johnny suddenly wasn’t sure why he was here, or what he’d been thinking. He probably hadn’t been. 

“I can walk,” Johnny said and went to get his shoes. 

LaRusso trailed after him, face puzzled. Johnny kept his eyes on what he was doing, on pulling on his jacket, on buttoning it up. He reached for the door and stepped off the porch, leaving it open as LaRusso stepped out behind him. 

“Hey, Johnny,” LaRusso called and Johnny glanced over his shoulder. “Thanks.” 

“Don’t make things weird, LaRusso.” 

LaRusso heaved out a long sigh. “Have fun walking home.” 

“Have fun not jerking off.” 

“Will you quit saying that?” LaRusso demanded and shut the door behind him with enough force to be considered a slam. 

Johnny grinned for a moment before it faltered. He tucked his hands in his pockets as he started the long walk to the donut shop so he could call Jimmy to pick him up. He tried to tuck away his thoughts, but no matter how hard he tried, Daniel lingered in his mind, just like the damned headache lingered between his eyes. 


End file.
